


The Heat of the Night

by Sarahtoo



Category: Miss Fisher's Murder Mysteries
Genre: Established Phrack, F/M, Flashfic challenge, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Post-Season/Series 03
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-01
Updated: 2018-04-01
Packaged: 2019-04-16 16:32:18
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,003
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14168973
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sarahtoo/pseuds/Sarahtoo
Summary: Jack returns to late to Wardlow after a long day to find Phryne waiting up for him. She hadn’t realized he was going to be quite so late, and he feels the need to make it up to her in pleasure.





	The Heat of the Night

**Author's Note:**

> I meant to just take one set of words--feline, elaborate, seek--mostly because I’m lazy and I knew this would be hard. But then the opportunity for another set--package, numismatist, sniff--arose, and I thought, hey, why not? When the chance to incorporate a third set--clutch, scent, Mr Butler--came up, I almost didn’t take it. It seemed like too much. So I hope it’s not too crazy!

Jack entered the bedroom quietly, not wanting to wake Phryne, though he needn’t have bothered. She sat at her vanity, performing the last steps of what he knew to be an elaborate skin-care regimen. The scents of her lotions and soaps drifted through the air, and his body responded. 

“You’re late tonight,” she said quietly, without looking at him.

Jack paused. “Too late? I’m sorry that I didn’t call.”

“Not too late, no,” she replied, flashing him a surprised smile. “It’s only that I had hoped you’d be here, waiting for me to ravish you, when I returned from the club.”

“I would much rather have been,” he admitted, beginning to shuck his many layers. “Collins and I spent the better part of three hours going from pub to pub. It’s not easy to seek out a subject when his description is so very… average.”

Phryne watched him in the vanity mirror, admiring the unconscious grace with which he stripped. His shoulders flexed as he pulled off his shirt, and she licked her lips at the shape revealed by his form-fitting undershirt and trousers--it really was a shame how men’s coats were cut to obscure the round globes of a fit man’s bottom. And Jack was fit. His wide shoulders tapered to a narrow waist in a sort of inverted triangle, and his high, tight buttocks filled out his trousers nicely. 

“And did you find him?” She forced the question from her lips, hoping that her voice sounded normal.

“Eventually,” he allowed with a slight sniff of disgust. “And he still had the package on him.” Shaking his head, he pulled his braces off his shoulders and stepped out of his trousers, turning to lay them on the suit rack where he’d fastidiously hung his jacket and waistcoat. “I would have thought that a numismatist of his standing would have been intelligent enough to at least try to obscure the evidence of his theft, but no. He said that he thought the coins would be more secure with him than in his safe--safes being so easy to open.”

Phryne laughed at that. This suspect had eluded Jack for weeks, and to have the case wrap up so nicely all in one evening… well, she knew a way to take Jack’s mind off of the irritation of it. Pushing away from the vanity, she turned to face him, the ice blue silk of her slip-style nightgown shivering around her body.

“Well, at least you caught him,” she responded. “And you didn’t even need to call in your own safecracking expert.” 

“True, though my expert is always a welcome addition,” he murmured, turning toward her as he pulled his undershirt over his head.

Phryne crawled up onto the bed, doing her best to imbue a feline grace into her movements as she approached the end of the mattress, close to where he stood. She was pleased to note that the bulge in his boxer shorts reflected his interest in her over and above this discussion.

“Your expert,” she purred, “is in need of some assistance.”

His eyes hot, Jack looked at her, this woman who’d become his world. Her face was bare of all makeup, her skin glowing with health. She prowled on all fours across the bed, and he caught glimpses of the soft curves of her breasts through the neckline of her short nightgown. Stopping at the end of the bed, she lifted a hand and beckoned him to come closer. He was moving before his brain understood the command.

“How can I help you, Miss Fisher?” The question was low and the tone filthy. He certainly hoped that he could help her in ways that would bring them both considerable pleasure.

“Take these off,” she responded, the finger she’d crooked at him slid along the top edge of his underwear, tracing the arc of his hip.

Jack shivered. Wordlessly, he obeyed, shucking the thin cotton and coming to stand nude before her, his desire evident in the hard length of his cock.

Phryne made a soft, pleased noise before wrapping her hand around his cock and pulling him closer. Jack took the final step toward the bed, but he didn’t even feel his thighs touch the edge because all of his attention was on the heat of her mouth as she sucked him in without warning.

“Fuck,” he breathed, his hands going to her shoulders to stroke her smooth skin. 

Phryne angled her head to look at him, her blue eyes slumberous with pleasure as she slid her mouth down his cock. She inched closer, her hands closing around his hips, her thumbs tracing the lines of muscle that angled from his stomach to his groin. Jack slid one hand to the back of her neck, feeling her motion against him; his other hand moved down her back, the silk of her gown slippery against the rough rasp of his fingers.

Her mouth was a glory, every time, and he loved to watch as she took him so deep into her throat that he could feel her swallow around his head before pulling back, her cheeks hollowing with suction. After a few strong pulls, she opened her mouth, swirling the flat of her tongue around his glans, and then sliding down his length to lick at his balls, burying her nose in his hair.

“Dear Jack,” she mumbled around his hard flesh, “I do hope you’re not too tired.”

“If I was, I’m awake now,” he replied. “And I’m hungry.” He dropped to his knees to cover her mouth with his own, ignoring the soft noise of protest she made as her hands moved from his body to support herself against the edge of the bed. Her kiss tasted lightly of his own fluids, and he groaned into her mouth as he devoured her. With a hand buried in her hair, he stood again to climb onto the bed. “Don’t move.”

Phryne obeyed, her body on fire with desire for him. She could still feel the satin-over-steel texture of his cock against her tongue, his pre-come salty and just slightly sweet. Her lips felt swollen, both from the suction she’d performed and from the heat of his kisses, and he kept his hands on her as he moved around behind her, bunching the silk of her nightgown in one hand to reveal her bare bottom.

“Beautiful,” he rumbled, just before she felt his mouth on her most intimate flesh. 

With a cry, her arms buckled and she put her head down between her elbows, widening her knees to give him better access to her sex. She loved Jack’s appetite, and he gave his all to eating her. One hand gripped her hips, holding her to his mouth as he buried his tongue inside her body, thrusting warmly in a preview of what would be coming later. His other hand cupped her mound, his thumb circling and pressing on her clitoris as he lapped up the moisture that her body created for him.

Her breathy cries were muffled in the fur blanket that she gripped, but they grew in volume as the coil of orgasm tightened within her. When Jack swapped his fingers and tongue, thrusting two thick digits inside her even as his lips suckled her clit, she came apart, screaming as release rocked her.

Even as she shuddered and shook, she felt the soft head of Jack’s cock at her entrance, the warm hairy length of his thighs parallel to hers. Reaching back with one hand, she gripped his hip and pulled him inside her body. He groaned as he entered her, a sound that made aftershocks of climax ripple through her.

Sliding his hands beneath her nightgown and up her belly to cup her breasts, Jack began to move, his chest close to her back, his hips flexing as he thrust and withdrew, thrust and withdrew.

Phryne lifted her head, turning to him, and he kissed her, his mouth hot and open over hers. 

“Phryne,” he whispered against her mouth, “so… good…”

“Yes, Jack,” she responded, lifting a hand to wrap her fingers in his hair and pull lightly. 

He gasped and she felt the rhythm of his hips speed up. With every thrust, his balls slapped lightly against her clit, and the repeated contact called a whine from deep in her chest.

“Jack,” she pleaded, and his hands on her breasts tightened, her nipples pinching between his fingers as his hips moved faster still, until he was pistoning his hard length inside her. 

Phryne was close to a second climax, Jack could tell. There was a certain tension in her body, a certain flex of her thighs that told him so. He bit lightly at her bottom lip, his hips pounding into her body, the drag of her flesh against his an exquisite torture that he would force himself to endure until she came apart around him. 

Giving her right breast a final squeeze, he stroked his hand down her stomach to tangle in the dark hair at the apex of her thighs, his fingers seeking the nubbin of flesh that was her main pleasure point. Stroking it, he tucked his head into her neck, his teeth closing softly on the curve where it met her shoulder. His breath labored in his chest as he clutched her close as he fucked her.

Her hand in his hair jerked as she came, pulling almost painfully; her internal muscles rippled along the length of his cock, and Jack followed her over with a shout, pressing himself close as he came in shuddering bursts. Locked in the immobility that followed climax, he breathed carefully, taking in the sound of her gasping breaths and the scent of lovemaking that had risen in the room, overriding that of her unguents and powders. He closed his eyes, reveling in the sensation of her thighs, which jumped with release where they rested against his.

When he could move, he pulled away only reluctantly, his hands sliding slowly away as he withdrew. Pressing a kiss to the small of her back, he moved off the bed to get a damp cloth and clean them both up. When he turned back, Phryne hadn’t moved except to let her knees fold. She looked wanton and rumpled, and it gave him an absurd shot of pride to have left her in such a state.

“Come on, love,” he said quietly. “Let’s get you cleaned up and under the covers.”

“Can’t move,” she replied, her voice muffled by the fur blanket she had her face buried in. “Legs don’t work.”

“Then let me…” Laughter bubbled in his chest--something that had been rare before he’d taken up with his impertinent miss--as he cleaned up the fluids that had accompanied their pleasure, then set the cloth aside and pulled the covers down. Phryne assisted as much as she could, but her limbs appeared to be rather limp. Tenderness streaked through him as he covered her up with the doona before scooping up the washcloth and going to clean himself off.

By the time he’d pulled on a pair of pajama trousers and returned to the bed, Phryne was asleep. She hadn’t yet starfished across the bed, and he turned out the light and slid beneath the covers to pull her close. 

He often joked that he loved to stay over at Wardlow because Mr. Butler’s breakfasts were the best in Melbourne, but they both knew that was a lie. This was his reason, these moments of peace in the whirlwind that was Phryne Fisher. He was in the eye of the storm now, and he couldn’t bring himself to regret any of the journey that had brought him here.

His own personal hurricane mumbled something that might have been “my Jack” as she snuggled close to his chest. With a sigh of contentment, Jack closed his eyes, burying his nose in her hair as he let sleep lull him.


End file.
